


Every Time I See You I Fall in Love All Over Again

by RightNow2808



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Character Study, Established Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-25 03:23:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14369841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RightNow2808/pseuds/RightNow2808
Summary: Roger watches Rafa play.





	Every Time I See You I Fall in Love All Over Again

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little something I wrote because I'm so happy for Rafa's two wins and I wanted to celebrate it. :)  
> I hope you like it,  
> kudos and comments appreciated.  
> Love,  
> Ž.xx
> 
> PS. This style of writing is a bit foreign to me (the first person narrator and present tense)... I'm just wondering if you like it. :)

The anxiety has been following me around for the whole day. I know it’s because Rafa’s playing today, but I can’t find a logical explanation why. I wanted to go to Monte Carlo, but Mirka had managed to convince me otherwise and as usually she is right. Rafa just makes me so blind, I sometimes don’t even recognize the person I am anymore.

I take a sit on the couch in front of the TV. Mirka is in her office, Myla and Charlene are in their rooms, Leo and Lenny at my parents’ house. It could be a coincidence that Mirka made sure I would have peace while watching Rafa, but she knows me better than most and she knows what I need.

I’m restless, my legs can’t stop bouncing up and down. They’re playing highlights of the previous match while I’m anxiously waiting for Rafa’s first clay season match to start. I’m worried. He tried to reassure me just minutes before, over the phone, his calm voice trying to convince me that he’s fine, that he’s pain-free, but I know him; he doesn’t tell me about his pain anymore.

I know Rafa rarely plays pain-free anymore, but he’s told me many times that it doesn’t matter as long as there are no limitations. I’m stupidly, selfishly holding on to that fact, hoping he would stay on tour as long as possible, because I wouldn’t be able to handle his retirement.

We have an agreement. An agreement that he can’t stop playing before I do. He has so much more to win and I would give him everything if I could. It’s why I decided to skip the clay season for the second year in a row. I’m not sure I could take a win from him there, where he feels home, where he’s the best, I wouldn’t be able to do it, not physically, not mentally, I love him too much to take that happiness away from him.

The match was starting, and I wasn’t ready. Rafa told me he felt well right before Acapulco started, only to find the injury recurring. He had to skip two tournaments, and it hurt him pretty badly. But that was just the Sunshine Double. I couldn’t imagine his pain if he had to skip the clay season, especially Roland Garros, where his home was. No matter how much he makes sure he tries his best at every tournament – he does – but some still mean more to him that the others.

But I had to stay positive. We had to stay positive. I couldn’t resist it, I called Rafa Maymo last evening. I knew Rafa wouldn’t like that if he found out, but Titín was the only one who could tell me the truth, because Rafa would never lie to him about the pain. He was reluctant to answer, but he told me that the hip looks okay and that Rafa feels well. I trust him.

Rafa walks out on court. The racket bag on one shoulder, the Nike one on the other, a racket ready in his hand. He raises his hand up to greet the crowd, his lips squeezed together. I will never not be surprised with how much courage he walks on the court, with his head always held up high. He doesn’t let his emotions show, carefully controlled under the stoic mask he keeps on. But I know what he’s feeling. He told me.

He’s afraid, he’s feeling self-conscious, he’s worried just like me and I wish I could take all of this away from him. And yet I know that won’t affect his game. He will turn into a beast, a gladiator in just a few minutes. That gladiator forgets about everything but the game and plays ‘till the end. The stats showed on the screen and I watched them absent-mindedly. Aljaž shouldn’t be a tough opponent, I played him at the AO and he’s a fighter, but he shouldn’t have a chance against Rafa.

The match goes past quickly. I am not a good cheerleader; I spend most of the match with my chin in my hands watching closely but I just can’t… At every point Rafa loses I wonder if something’s hurting him, my eyes follow his knees closely, his right hip. I observe him, afraid that he will start limping any second now, call the physio, retire… But that doesn’t happen.

Rafa plays flawlessly, each forehand down the line perfect, he knows the court and he proves it by completely destroying Bedene. The first set is over quickly. Rafa takes a sit at the bench, covers his thighs with a towel. His legs are bouncing up and down in sync with mine. I smile faintly at the thought. The camera is close to his face. There’s a razor cut on his cheek, he must have nicked himself again.

Over and over again I’m mesmerized by his simplicity, his beauty, his strength, his kindness, his courage. I may have won more grand slams than he has, but I would be never able to achieve what he’s achieving over and over again; proving himself and the others that nothing will stop him for as long as wants to keep playing, that you can do anything if your wish is strong enough. Having come back from so many injuries, each time stronger and God, I couldn’t be prouder.

I barely watch the second set, looking but not seeing, deeply lost in my memories. Rafa has made my life so much better from the moment we met. My eyes focus on him. He seems like a regular man. Maybe with a few hairs less than normal for his age, with a few lines on his face too much. But looking at him like that nobody would understand all the good and bad that’s inside.

Nobody would understand how much pain he’s gone through, because he’s so used to it he doesn’t let it show anymore. And not just the physical pain, Rafa has been hurt many times emotionally too and it would be a lie to say I didn’t have anything to do with it. I know what Rafa wants from me even if he won’t say it and here we are, ten years later and still nobody knows about us.

But the good things are hidden too. He keeps a face of a gladiator on, of an executioner and someone who doesn’t know him well could never tell what a good, pure and kind person he is. I’ve rarely heard him say a curse or a bad word, especially not in front of other people and this is a small thing, but one that I’ve learned to cherish over the years. He’s a good listener too, always ready to help however he could, no matter how far away he is.

And he’s so loyal, his loyalty is shared by everybody he loves and it’s sometimes difficult, sharing him like that, but I know he doesn’t like sharing me either, so I have no room to complain.

I watch him serve. He hits the shoes with the racket frame, he pulls his pants out from in between his ass cheeks and I can’t help but smile – such a lovely habit. He’s lately added pulling the pants in the front too to his routine. One shoulder, the other shoulder. God, this colour really compliments his golden skin. He’s so beautiful. Nose, ear, repeat. Pause. Bounce the ball three times. Toss, serve.

Fondness was spreading all around me and I can’t stop it. I love him so much. As the second set is coming to an end I can finally relax, leaning back against the couch, but still watching. Aljaž’s comeback is still possible, although that would be a true miracle. Maybe if Rafa manages to hurt himself in those last few minutes of the match. I shake those thoughts away immediately. I believe in the power of thoughts.

Rafa finishes the match 6-1, 6-3 and God, I’m so proud. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been proud when he played in Valencia too, but that was different. He’s back, my baby is back, and for some reason there are tears springing into my eyes. I force them away before they could fall, and I can’t stop smiling. I’m overwhelmed by feelings of pride, happiness, relief, while I watch him step back on court with his arms spread, the smile I love so much back on his face. I missed it, I missed him. I missed him playing and seeing him win, because there wasn’t anything more beautiful in this world.

My mood had brightened considerably, and I went to make myself a cup of coffee. The water was boiling when I received a text. I texted Rafa right after the match, knowing he won’t be able to answer immediately, but he was quick, and his message is already in my phone.

**Gracias, I run to press. Te quiero mucho! Talk to you in evening. R.**

God, I’m going to smile like in idiot for the rest of the day.


End file.
